


First Penance

by AfricanDaisy, Kaylee no Valerian (KayleeArafinwiel)



Series: The House of Shahrizai [2]
Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Brothers, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Single Parents, Spanking, Whipping, Widowed Father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6934681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfricanDaisy/pseuds/AfricanDaisy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayleeArafinwiel/pseuds/Kaylee%20no%20Valerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The youngest son of Sacriphant Shahrizai isn't content to remain at home when his next-eldest brothers are taken to the Night Court for the first time. </p><p>Elua help Mandrake House...or should we say Kushiel help Mavros, when Dowayne Jacinthe no Mandrake gets her hands on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Penance

Sacriphant Shahrizai was returning to the City of Elua, bringing his five sons with him. He usually preferred to stay at his hunting manor on a sprawling estate a couple of leagues outside the City, but he had business at the palace and would reside at his townhouse until it was concluded. Besides, he thought to contract the services of an adept whilst in the City, and he knew that his eldest heirs were eager to return to the Night Court. He had heard them plotting to visit every single House in alphabetical order, and he had smiled thinly, recalling how he had done the same thing in his youth. As for the twins, they had turned sixteen in the winter, and were old enough now to experience their first heady tastes of the Night Court.

Then there was Mavros. As they entered the City, Sacriphant riding in a lacquered carriage whilst his older sons rode behind it on glossy black horses, he regarded his youngest through impassive blue eyes. Seated opposite him, Mavros gazed out of the window, oblivious to his scrutiny. The little boy had been to the City before, but only a few times, and Sacriphant remembered well how exciting it was to see the shining walls through the eyes of a child. Even now that he was a man in the prime of his life, it still lifted his spirits to return to Elua’s City.

When they arrived at the townhouse, Sacriphant swept inside whilst his elder sons hurried to bathe and change their clothes. It seemed Casimar and Ramiel meant to waste not a moment of their time. Mavros was left alone with his nurse, who cleaned the dust from his travels off him and saw him settled in his bedroom. The boy fell asleep before long, tired from many days of travelling and trying to mind his behaviour in the presence of his severe lord father, who had a very hard hand and an arsenal of implements for dealing with naughty little boys.

The following night, Mavros dined alone with Lord Sacriphant. Casimar and Ramiel had taken the twins to a Showing at the Night Court – whatever a Showing was – and they would not be back until the next day. Actually, he wasn’t alone with Sacriphant, Mavros corrected himself. There was a golden haired adept of Valerian House present, clad in a sheer white gown that left little to the imagination. Seated opposite Mavros, on Sacriphant’s other side, she ate so silently and said so little that she might not have been there at all. Mavros knew why she was there, sort of. She and his father would do…things…together. And in fact, he thought she might have been the same adept who had stayed at the townhouse last time they had been there.

Lord Sacriphant must like her very much, Mavros decided. “Father,” he said finally, watching as Sacriphant’s sapphire eyes turned away from the adept and glided onto him. “When may I go to the Night Court?”

"You may go to the Night Court when you are sixteen," Sacriphant said firmly. "Not before."

"Sixteen," Mavros repeated thoughtfully. "I am six now. So I can go in nine years."

"In ten years, you will be sixteen, little boy," Sacriphant corrected. What had his son been learning in the schoolroom?

"No, Father," Mavros said, quite respectfully. "It is nine years. Nine years and three months, actually." He paused and counted quickly on his fingers. "Nine years and two and a half months."

"Nine years and two and a half months, then," Sacriphant allowed. "It is still more than nine years. You shall not be going to the Night Court until you turn sixteen, little boy. Do you understand me?"

"In nine years and two and a half months, yes," Mavros agreed. He continued eating, and he reflected idly that it really wasn't fair that his brothers could do so much whilst he was still so small. It wasn't his fault. He hadn't asked to be born eight years after the twins. "The Night Court is on Mont Nuit," he said, after a little while. He sounded quite proud of himself for knowing that. "Isn't it, Father?"

"Yes," Sacriphant agreed. "It is. You have at least paid heed in your lessons on the City of Elua. That is to be commended."

"And Mont Nuit is above Night's Doorstep, where the Prince of Travellers used to hold his court," Mavros added. "He's the Master of the Straits now."

"He is," Sacriphant agreed. "Yes, that is so. You have learnt well, my son."

Mavros smiled to himself at the praise. He was glad his elder brothers had gone out, even if it was to the Night Court. As the smallest member of the family, it was easy to be overlooked sometimes. "I have learnt about the adventures of Phèdre no Delaunay and Joscelin Verreuil in Skaldia and La Seren...La Ser-en-iss-ima. And I have learnt about Melis-" Mavros caught himself, falling silent. He didn't know if he ought to talk about her in front of his father. He had learnt about her though, and about her son Imriel, who had disappeared and could be anywhere in the world. Mavros thought it would be nice if his father found Imriel and brought him to live with them, then Mavros would have someone his own age to play with.

"I have learnt about other things," he finished.

"Melisande," Sacriphant finished. "Did you know she was my brother's daughter?"

Mavros nodded carefully. "Yes, sir. Uncle Casimar's daughter, not Uncle Demetri's."

"Just so. I am quite a bit younger than my eldest brother, so she was as a sister to me as we grew up." Sacriphant's gaze grew distant briefly. "I did not know, then, what she would become."

"I'm sorry, Father," Mavros said softly.

"Thank you, Mavros," Sacriphant said quietly. "Elua and Kushiel willing, her son will be found. If I could, I would teach him what it meant to be a proper Shahrizai. Melisande has disgraced our name, and that is not right."

Mavros lifted his chin, his sapphire eyes glittering and his blue-black hair shimmering in the light. It lay unbound halfway down his back, for he would not earn the right to wear braids until he was older. "I will be a proper Shahrizai, for me and Prince Imriel," he declared.

"Good boy," Sacriphant said softly. "I am glad of it."

 

After the evening meal was over, Mavros was dismissed from his father’s company. He left the dining room, and as he slowly closed the door behind him, he heard soft murmuring followed by the sound of barely audible rustling from the adept’s sheer gown as she moved. Then Mavros heard Sacriphant’s hand striking the adept’s bottom, and he peeked back through the slightly ajar door in time to see the golden haired woman closing her eyes and exhaling slowly through parted lips as though in pleasure. Squirming slightly, Mavros ran upstairs to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed, slowly swinging his legs back and forth as he pondered.

Father was going to be busy with the adept all night, Mavros knew. In fact, just like he wouldn’t see his brothers until the next day, he probably wouldn’t see Sacriphant until then either. He bit his lip thoughtfully. He knew how to get out of the house, and he even knew how to get out of the gardens. The gate at the back was perfect for climbing, and although it was a fairly high drop to the ground, he was nimble and better at climbing than his brothers.

Mavros went to his window and stared out of it. He could see Mont Nuit, with its well-lit mansions that were the Houses of the Night Court. It didn’t look as though it would be too difficult to reach. He was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of his nurse coming in to get him ready for bed. Anastasie had been an adept of Mandrake House, he knew. With her waist-length auburn hair and apple green eyes, and high cheekbones and plump lips, Mavros thought she was very beautiful. So did Casimar. And Ramiel. In fact, Anastasie thought Casimar and Ramiel were beautiful as well. Mavros assumed she did anyway, because why else would she have done…that...to both of them, one right after the other.

Mavros hadn’t meant to spy on them. Well, actually he had, but that was the lie he had told Anastasie. She hadn’t believed him, and she had firmly slippered his bottom until it had been hot and red all over. Even though it had stung ever so much, Mavros hadn’t been mad with his nurse and he had still thought she was very beautiful. “Hello, Anastasie,” he greeted her now.

"Hello, little boy," Anastasie replied. "It is time for your bath, then bed. What were you doing at the window?" she questioned as she took Mavros in to ready his bath.

"Looking out of it," Mavros replied, as if it ought to be obvious.

"Ah. And what did you see?" Anastasie asked, undressing Mavros briskly.

"The sky and the stars and the moon and houses and people and lights and the palace and Mont Nuit and horses and trees," Mavros said.

"Mont Nuit, hmm," his nurse remarked. She had run the water for her charge's bath. Now she checked the water, and as it was the right temperature, she settled Mavros in the tub and began to scrub him. "What do you want with Mont Nuit, little boy?"

"Nothing, Anastasie," Mavros said innocently. "It was just there."

"Do not presume to lie to me, little boy," Anastasie snapped, knowing that tone all too well.

Mavros squirmed a little in the hot water. It made his cheeks flush when Anastasie used that tone. "My brothers went there tonight," he said. "All of them."

"So I understand," Anastasie remarked. "They are old enough. You, little boy, are not."

"I will be in nine years and two and a half months," Mavros informed her.

"Yes, I know. Insolent bratling," Anastasie shook her head. "That is not for a long time, yet."

"My brothers are sixteen," Mavros said thoughtfully. He paused for a moment. "The twins. Not Casimar and Ramiel." He paused again, then his eyes gleamed in amusement and he added slyly, "But you know that, Anastasie."

Anastasie plucked Mavros from the bath, wet and squirming as he was, and lay him over the towel she had waiting on her lap. Picking up the bath brush, she administered a swat to the youngest Shahrizai's bottom.

"Owwww," Mavros protested, wriggling about. "Anastasie!"

"Enough insolence, little boy," Anastasie said firmly, continuing to redden Mavros' wet bottom.

“But Anastasiiiiie," Mavros whined. "I was only saying."

“I thought you were going to be a proper Shahrizai like your father," Anastasie scolded. "Shahrizai do not whine, little boy."

Mavros scowled and propped his chin in his hands. He had to admit, he couldn't see his noble sire whining. Or any of his brothers, he supposed reluctantly.

"There," Anastasie said when Mavros' bottom was red and hot, and would be till the morning. She wrapped the rest of the towel around Mavros, drying him briskly, pulled a nightshirt over his head and swatted him to get him moving. "Bed, little boy."

Rubbing his eyes and sniffling, Mavros ran to his bedroom and climbed into bed. When his nurse came to tuck him in, he raised himself to his knees and put his arms around her neck as she leaned down. "Goodnight, Anastasie," he said, kissing her cheek.

"Goodnight, little boy." Anastasie gave Mavros a pat on the head and tucked him in firmly; face up of course, with his toy soldier in Shahrizai livery next to him.

 

As Mavros lay in bed that night, he shifted about until the covers loosened. He turned onto his side and stared at the shaft of moonlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and he slipped his hand inside his night clothes and rubbed his sore bottom as he thought things through. Tonight was the best time to visit Mont Nuit, he thought. With Sacriphant occupied and his brothers out, there were less people to catch him sneaking out. Although if he got caught coming back, he’d have to face being punished on top of the paddling that Anastasie had given him. He scowled slightly. He had only been saying.

When he had made his decision, he got dressed and tucked his toy soldier back into bed by itself before walking slowly and quietly through the house. He was very good at being quiet. Once outside, he crept through the garden and got to the gate. He crept up and over it, and he dropped to the ground, landing lightly. Feeling pleased with himself, he set off through the streets of the City of Elua, heading for Mont Nuit.

Mavros didn't get very far before a woman stepped out of the shadows. She was petite, and her bronze curls set off beautiful violet eyes, which were sparkling with suppressed mirth. "Fair evening, little cousin," she greeted Mavros, catching him by the hand. "Should you not be in bed by now, Mavros?" She hadn't met Mavros Shahrizai before, but there was no mistaking the child for anyone but Sacriphant's youngest son - none of the other Shahrizai children were the right age, and he was no Shahrizai by-blow, for the children of a Shahrizai's mistress would be in the Night Court or tucked away on some estate, not running free in the City of Elua. She knew well enough that Sacriphant was in the City on business and had brought his sons with him, and so Nicola was sure of her guess.

Mavros blinked a couple of times, and he stared up at the woman. "How do you know I'm Mavros Shahrizai? I might not be."

Nicola laughed. "And who else would you be, little cousin? There are no other Shahrizai in the City your size." With the possible exception of Imriel de la Courcel, she thought, but this boy was pure Shahrizai, she could see that well enough. "Where were you off to? Your father's townhouse is the other way."

"I just came from there," Mavros said cautiously. "I'm going for a walk."

"In the middle of the night?" Nicola asked, interest piqued. "Without your nurse?"

"I suppose she's in bed," Mavros replied.

"I can't imagine Lord Sacriphant would let his youngest son roam the City at night alone, so I must suppose he doesn't know you are here," Nicola said. She was leading Mavros to her own townhouse as she talked, though she doubted the boy noticed. "What would your father say, hmm?"

Mavros thought his father wouldn't say an awful lot. "I don't know. Who are you?"

"Well, let us see, little cousin. I have called you 'cousin' from the start, so that will tell you we are kindred, albeit distantly - and it is distantly," Nicola said with a soft laugh. "It also tells you that I am a scion of a noble House. What do my looks say to you?" She sat down on a bench and lifted Mavros into her lap, facing her so he could get a good look at her.

"That you are a beautiful lady," Mavros said slyly.

Nicola laughed and kissed the top of Mavros' head. "Well, thank you, little cousin. What else?" she asked him.

"Your eyes are a sort of purple," Mavros added.

"Yes," Nicola agreed, "that they are. Which House is known for purple eyes, little cousin?"

"House L'Envers," Mavros said, sounding a little pleased that he knew.

"Very good," Nicola said with a smile. "I am Nicola L'Envers. Has your father spoken of me to you before?"

Mavros shrugged slightly. "Just to say that you were at court."

"Ah, yes. Well, Queen Ysandre is a L'Envers too, through her mother, so we are close cousins. I like to spend time with her," Nicola said with a smile. "She is almost like a sister. Do you like your brothers, Mavros?" Nicola asked.

After a pause, Mavros gave another shrug. "They're all right. I'm a lot smaller than them. So they do a lot of things I can't. And the things I can do, they're not so interested in."

"Ah. That must be hard," Nicola sympathised. "Let me see, your twin brothers have just turned sixteen, is that right? Perhaps they are even at the Night Court tonight."

"All of my brothers are at the Night Court," Mavros corrected Nicola. "And there's a lady from the Night Court at home with Father."

"Ah, I see. Is that why you ran off, then? There was no one to pay attention to you, little cousin?" Nicola asked.

Mavros shook his head. "Anastasie paid attention to me."

"Not the sort you liked, I am sure," Nicola said drily. "Or mayhap you did; you are Kushiel's scion after all." Then she laughed.

"I didn't like it. I don't like it when Anastasie or Father or my brothers must punish me." Mavros paused, frowning slightly. "Well..." He paused again, trying to figure it out. "Sometimes, before it hurts a lot and I start to cry, I..." He blushed faintly, squirming on his sore bottom. "Sometimes then, it's not...well, it's not so bad."

"Of course," Nicola said, touching Mavros' cheek lightly and giving him an amused smile. "We are Kushiel's blood, you and I, and yours is stronger than mine. Kushiel's blood know the gift of pain, little cousin. In time, you will understand."

Mavros pondered this for a few moments. He had heard similar things from his father and brothers, and Anastasie too, though he didn't understand yet. Suddenly he realised he had let himself be distracted, and he frowned at Nicola. "I think I'll be going now, my lady. I'm meant to be somewhere."

"Yes, you are meant to be home in bed," Nicola said wryly. "No doubt your father will be cross when he discovers you have gone."

Mavros rolled his sapphire eyes. "I'll be home before he finds out I'm gone."

"Hmm," Nicola mused. "What does your father say about other people discovering your naughtiness, little cousin?"

"He doesn't, really," Mavros said honestly. That was the truth. If Anastasie or Casimar or anyone else had reason to punish him, they just did so; they didn't have to tell Sacriphant, but usually they did.

"Ah. Well," Nicola said, considering it, "perhaps we shall see. Your father is busy, so we shan't disturb him." She led Mavros off again, heading for her townhouse, which wasn't far now. "We wouldn't want to disturb Lord Sacriphant, would we."

"No, he's with the lady from the Night Court," Mavros agreed. He pulled his hand out of Nicola's and took a step back. "I was on my way somewhere and you're holding me up."

"Where were you going, little cousin?" Nicola asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm going to Mont Nuit," Mavros replied, starting to walk off. "Goodbye."

Nicola caught Mavros firmly by the shoulders, though not hard enough to hurt him. "No, little cousin," she said. "You're not to go there until you're sixteen. Surely your father told you that at least?"

Mavros squirmed in frustration. "I want to see Mont Nuit."

Nicola shook her head. "I doubt your father will approve, cousin Mavros. You come with me." Still, she loosed her grip a little as they walked, as if thoughtlessly or by accident - just enough that Mavros could pull free. _It would be very interesting indeed to see what Mavros gets up to, should I let him go..._ she thought.

Mavros walked along nicely at Nicola's side for a few moments before breaking away. He turned on his heel and ran from her, ran in the direction of Mont Nuit. He was fast, and he darted easily through the crowds, using his size to his advantage. He was slightly out of breath when he reached the hill, and he slowed to a walk, looking around with wide eyes as he went past the gated mansions where music and laughter spilled out of the brightly lit doors and windows.

Nicola slipped after Mavros, keeping him just in sight but not letting him see her, and followed at a distance to see where he would go. She wanted to be sure he would be safe, after all - it would not do for the youngest scion of Kushiel and House Shahrizai to be harmed.

Eventually Mavros reached a pair of tall black gates, and he peered through the bars at the mansion that lay far behind them. This was different to the other houses he had passed. Though the windows were lit, they were covered by black silk and gauze, and there was no laughter or music coming out of them. Mavros chewed his lip, wondering where he found himself.

Jacinthe, the Dowayne of Mandrake House, appeared at the gates. Raising an eyebrow, she let Mavros in, catching hold of him and staring down at the child. "What brings you here, young Shahrizai?"

Mavros blinked, and then his eyes widened. "I wanted to see Mont Nuit."

"Did you." Jacinthe closed the gate behind Mavros with great finality. "How appropriate, then, that you would begin your quest with Mandrake House."

The sound of the gate closing made Mavros jump, but then he smiled. "Mandrake," he repeated. "My nurse, Anastasie, she comes from Mandrake House."

"Ah. Anastasie, yes. I am Jacinthe, Dowayne of Mandrake House," the woman said.

"I am Mavros Shahrizai," Mavros replied.

Jacinthe's lips twitched slightly upward, and she nodded. "I know. Well met, young Shahrizai." She led Mavros up the path, making sure he was held securely as they walked. She wouldn't allow the child to become lost.

 

"My brothers have all come to Mont Nuit tonight," Mavros informed her. "I wanted to see it, too. I like it."

"Do you? I am not surprised. You are a Shahrizai, after all," Jacinthe said, faintly amused. "So you come to Mandrake, in reverence of Kushiel, whose scion you are. I doubt that to be an accident."

"I didn't know this was Mandrake," Mavros replied. "But I knew it was...different."

"Different," Jacinthe repeated, her tone inviting Mavros to elaborate.

"I could hear music and people laughing at the other houses," Mavros said. "But I couldn't hear anything coming out of this house. And the windows are darker. It just seems...dark."

Jacinthe nodded. "Yes. We of Mandrake reverence Kushiel and the gift of pain he gave to his people," she said. "Even so do those of our sister House, Valerian, though our ways are opposite. Mandrake's canon is domination, our adepts well trained to administer the pleasure of Kushiel's pain to our patrons."

Mavros considered this. "Father has a lady from Valerian at home. She's staying with him while we're here. My brothers Casimar and Ramiel like Valerian. I think they've taken Lucian and Leandre somewhere else tonight for their first time." He laughed gleefully. "I came to Mandrake before them, and I'm only six."

"So you did," the Dowayne agreed in amusement. She led Mavros inside, warning him to be quiet as they went in. She would, of course, keep Mavros away from anywhere that was being used, but there was no reason the young Shahrizai shouldn't see anything that their own fosterlings were permitted to see.

Mavros followed Jacinthe, and a young male adept with long black hair, clad in a sheer shirt and tight fitting leather breeches strode past them. Mavros didn't look at the adept because he was too busy looking at paintings of erotic scenes, but the adept looked at him before glancing at Jacinthe. The Dowayne nodded briefly. Oblivious to the exchange, Mavros eyed a painting of an unclad woman performing the languisement upon a man who had his head thrown back in ecstasy. Mavros smirked. "I saw Anastasie doing that to Casimar and Ramiel.”

"Did you?" Jacinthe asked. "How interesting. And what did you think of that, young Shahrizai?"

"It was a bit strange, but my brothers seemed to like it," Mavros replied. He shrugged slightly. "They don't know I saw. But Anastasie found out, and she was angry."

"I daresay," Jacinthe said drily. "What did she do to you, then?"

"She gave me a slippering," Mavros said.

"Rightly so," Jacinthe said with a nod. "Little boys should not be attending Showings before they are fourteen, at the very earliest, and they especially ought not to spy on anyone."

Mavros sighed. He'd had enough of a scolding and smacking from Anastasie; he didn't need more of the same from a stranger. He made a non-committal sound. "I found my way to Mont Nuit all by myself, you know."

"How clever," Jacinthe said. "I shall have to...congratulate Anastasie on raising such a precocious young charge."

Mavros smiled, glowing at the praise. "Yes, it was clever. I'll find my way home by myself, too."

Jacinthe made a non-committal hmm at that, leading Mavros on to look over the part of Mandrake House occupied by its fosterlings, who were, of course, abed. She took him into one of the chambers outfitted for punishment of disobedient Mandrake children, and let Mavros look around.

Turning slowly, Mavros studied the room, looking at the implements hanging on the walls, at the padded leather benches. There were hooks for clothes to be hung on, and in each corner of the room was a raised platform. Mavros was rather glad that his father didn't have a punishment chamber.

"So. You were drawn to Mandrake House," Jacinthe mused. The Dowayne studied Mavros intently. "Clever though it was for you to find your way here, it was also naughty of you to leave your bed. You will go to the corner at once, young Shahrizai, and stand in the corner, facing the wall. Hands on your head."

Mavros blinked and took a step back. "Why? You're not Father, or Anastasie. You can't put me in the corner."

"If you were indeed a fosterling of Mandrake, it is what you would know to expect," the Dowayne replied calmly. "Anastasie was brought up in my House. She learned everything she knows about the discipline of naughty children from me. I doubt you wish to test me, young Shahrizai. Go, before I have you disrobe first - and you may thank me for being lenient."

The little Shahrizai lord folded his arms over his chest and gazed stubbornly at the Dowayne. He wasn't overly bothered about the prospect of her undressing him, since he was used to that when he was punished at home. But he was bothered by the fact that she thought she could just order him to go and stand in the corner and expect him to obey.

"Enough of that, young Shahrizai," Jacinthe said. Sweeping over to Mavros, she began undressing him briskly.

Mavros looked sullenly up at her through his lashes. "I didn't come to Mont Nuit for this."

"I am sure, young Shahrizai. Nevertheless, it is what you will be getting." When Mavros was stripped of all his clothing, she planted him in the corner, giving the little Shahrizai lord a firm swat to remind him of his place.

Mavros yelped as Jacinthe's hand connected with his already throbbing bottom.

"Now, you will stand in the corner, facing the wall, hands on your head." Jacinthe positioned Mavros as she had indicated. "Do not move until I give you leave."

"I'll tell my father about this," Mavros muttered under his breath. "My father is Sacriphant Shahrizai, you know. Lord Sacriphant Shahrizai."

"I know," Jacinthe said. "I am quite sure you will tell your father about this. In fact, I insist. I look forward to hearing what the Lord Shahrizai has to say about it."

Mavros got the distinct impression that Jacinthe was laughing at him. Scowling, he lifted his chin defiantly, though he kept his hands on his head.

Jacinthe smiled to herself. Oh yes, she would very much enjoy knowing what the proud, hard Sacriphant Shahrizai had to say about his youngest's misadventure.

Meanwhile, Damien no Mandrake was just arriving at Lord Sacriphant's townhouse. Dismounting, he left his black gelding in the care of a servant before striding into the house as though he owned it. Whilst a servant in black and gold Shahrizai livery departed to find her lord, Damien folded his arms and waited impatiently, looking around with icy blue eyes. He knew that a Valerian adept had been contracted to serve Lord Sacriphant for the length of his stay during the City, so he was quite sure he knew what the servant would be interrupting. He smirked slightly as he waited, and before long, he looked up to see Sacriphant sweeping down the staircase, clad in a black silk robe. "Lord Sacriphant," Damien said, bowing slightly.

"Damien no Mandrake," Sacriphant replied, inclining his head slightly to the adept.

Damien straightened and met Sacriphant's gaze steadily; it was not in a Mandrake adept's nature to lower their eyes. They left that to their Valerian counterparts. "I have come about your son," Damien said idly. He smirked inwardly. He knew that Sacriphant had two adult sons as well as twin sons well into their sixteenth year, and all four of them had visited the Night Court. The lord could have no idea that his six year old was there as well.

"I have four at the Night Court tonight," Sacriphant said drily. "Kindly be more specific."

"My lord, you are incorrect." After a pause for dramatic effect, which Damien thought worked rather well, he elaborated. "You have five at the Night Court."

"Surely you jest." Sacriphant stared at the Mandrake adept. "My youngest is six years old. He has no business being anywhere near Mont Nuit, much less House Mandrake."

"Indeed," Damien agreed. "And yet, I saw little Mavros Shahrizai with my own eyes, in the company of the Dowayne. I believe he was telling her how he once witnessed his nurse...hmm...Anastasie, is it not...performing the languisement upon his brothers Casimar and Ramiel. Of course, I could be wrong and there could be another little Shahrizai running about."

"What?" Sacriphant lost his composure for a moment, but then collected himself. "So the Dowayne has sent you to inform me of my son's whereabouts. Very kind. I will go myself, and you may inform Cecilie no Valerian in the meantime. I would rather deal with my son alone." He swept from the house, fuming.

Back at Mandrake House, Mavros was still standing in the corner with his hands on his head. His eyes were closed, and he felt as though he could fall asleep at any moment. It was nearing midnight after all, and what with his paddling earlier and his adventure in the City, he really was feeling very tired. He yawned and leaned against the wall, struggling to stay awake.

The Dowayne flicked a leather flogger against the backs of Mavros' thighs. "Do not fall asleep, little boy."

Mavros jumped, his eyes flying open. "I'm sleepy," he mumbled.

"Your father will be here soon," she replied sharply.

"My father?" Mavros repeated. He turned around, his blue eyes widening. "Why my father?"

"Because I sent for him, and he is coming to collect you. Face to the wall," Jacinthe commanded.

"But you weren't meant to send for him," Mavros complained, frustrated.

 “You are much too young to be simply wandering the City of Elua and up to Mont Nuit," Jacinthe said, repositioning Mavros and whipping him with the flogger again.

"I knew my way!" Mavros shouted at her. "I could find my way back home!"

"Do not shout at me, young Shahrizai, or you will regret it," Jacinthe said sharply.

Huffing softly, Mavros folded his arms over his chest and stared at the wall through narrowed eyes.

"Hands on your head, little boy." The flogger lashed Mavros' thighs again.

Yelping, Mavros quickly returned his hands to his head.

Meanwhile, Sacriphant Shahrizai's carriage was making its way through the City of Elua and up to Mont Nuit. It drew up short outside Mandrake House, where Sacriphant disembarked, ordered the driver to wait, and strode inside.

Minutes later, when the door to the punishment chamber flew open, Mavros looked around over his shoulder quickly.

"What is this?" Sacriphant snapped at Jacinthe. "Why is my son here, of all places?"

Stepping back from the corner, Jacinthe briefly surveyed her handiwork - the flogger had left red lash marks down the boy's back and over his bottom and thighs, although regretfully she knew she couldn't take full credit for that as his bottom had been rosy to begin with - before turning to look at Sacriphant. She folded her arms calmly. "Lord Sacriphant. Thank you for coming to collect your son. I have been taking care of him for you."

"So I see," Sacriphant said. "Remind me. Is he Mavros no Mandrake, or Mavros Shahrizai?"

Jacinthe narrowed her eyes and was silent for a moment. "He is Mavros Shahrizai," she said coolly, after a moment. "But when Mavros Shahrizai trespasses onto Mandrake property, Mandrake has the right to deal with him."

Sacriphant gave a slight nod. "Mayhap. But not without informing me first. Mavros, come here," he commanded.

Shivering a little, Mavros left the corner and went straight to his father's side. He knew he ought not to speak first, but he couldn't help it. "Father, I didn't trespass," he said.

"Tell me everything, Mavros," Sacriphant said. "I will hear both sides of this doubtless most intriguing tale before passing judgement."

"I know you said I wasn't to come to the Night Court until I'm sixteen, but I really wanted to see what it was like and I...I crept out of bed and I sneaked away from the house," Mavros confessed. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, and he lowered his eyes so he didn't have to face Sacriphant's icy blue stare. "Lady Nicola L'Envers found me, but I escaped from her and I found Mont Nuit all by myself. I was looking at the Houses and then I saw this one. I was standing outside the gates and they were closed. Then this lady came, and she opened the gates and brought me inside."

"I see." Sacriphant turned toward the Dowayne. "So. My son did not trespass in Mandrake, if he was invited in. I do not dispute that he should not have been in Mont Nuit at all, but 'trespass' is unfounded."

"Very well," Jacinthe said shortly.

"Now, your side, if you please, Jacinthe," Sacriphant replied.

The Dowayne narrowed her eyes at being given an order, but she nodded curtly. "I saw a disobedient little boy by himself on Mont Nuit and thought to keep him out of trouble whilst one of my adepts went to find his father. The corner seemed the safest place for him, and when he declined to go there, I stripped him. When he started to fall asleep and then continued to disobey me, I gave him some lashes with the flogger to teach him a lesson."

"That is fair enough, I suppose," Sacriphant conceded. "Well, Kushiel willing, he shall not visit again ere his sixteenth birthday." He smiled slightly. "Perhaps I will contract Mandrake House for his natality fete."

Jacinthe inclined her head. "We will be pleased to oblige."

"I will remember it." With a nod, Sacriphant turned back to Mavros. "Get dressed, little boy. We are going home. And apologise to the Dowayne for wasting her time."

"I'm sorry," Mavros muttered, as he started getting dressed.

"You can do better than that, little boy," Sacriphant said.

Mavros sighed to himself, and glowered at his shirt as he picked it up. He wasn't sorry, because the Dowayne had wasted her own time. She hadn't had to invite him in or put him in the corner or anything else. Still, he knew that not giving a better apology would only make Sacriphant even more cross, so he tried again. "I am sorry, Dowayne."

"Very well," was Jacinthe's curt response. "See that you do not do it again, young Shahrizai. We will see you when you are sixteen, then."

Mavros nodded, and when he had finished dressing, he returned to Sacriphant's side and slipped his hand into his father's.

Sacriphant took Mavros out to the carriage after bidding the Dowayne farewell, and returned to the house. He sat in cold silence all the way back, looking sternly at his youngest heir, and when they got back he propelled Mavros into the house with a firm swat. "Anastasie!" he called sharply, and she swept out to meet them, eyes narrowing as she beheld her small charge. "Little boy, what have you been doing?"

"I went to Mont Nuit," Mavros informed her.

Anastasie gave Mavros a shake and a sharp swat. "Foolish bratling!" she snapped as Sacriphant left her with her charge. "Little boys do not belong at Mont Nuit, unless they are fosterlings, and you may be glad you are not."

Mavros squirmed in his nurse's firm grip. "I just wanted to look, Anastasie."

"Naughty little boys belong in bed with well smacked bottoms," Anastasie snapped.

"I've already got a well smacked bottom," Mavros snapped back, "so I'll just go to bed."

Anastasie marched Mavros up to bed and snatched up the slipper, sitting on the bed and turning Mavros over her knee.

"Anastasie, my bottom already hurts," the little boy complained.

"I am sure," Anastasie said, but she began the slippering without further comment and wholly without sympathy.

Mavros squirmed in pain, gasping tearfully as he gripped the bedcovers. He did his best to stay still. Anastasie had sternly told him before that a naughty bottom ought to stay still when it was being punished. "The Dowayne whipped me a-and Father will punish me tomorrow," he gasped.

"I have no doubt your lord father will punish you tomorrow," Anastasie agreed as she finished his punishment. "Why did the Dowayne whip you, little boy?" Anastasie asked, letting Mavros rest over her lap.

Mavros scrubbed tears from his eyes as he got his breath back. "Be-because I was starting to fall asleep in the corner and because I talked back to h-her."

"Well, and so, you should not have done that," Anastasie scolded. She ran a hand over Mavros' hot bottom. "I expect it was frightening when the Dowayne whipped you, wasn't it."

Though he had just been soundly slippered and was lying bare bottomed over his nurse's lap, Mavros still managed to lift his chin stubbornly. "I'm a Shahrizai, and Shahrizai don't get frightened."

"Proper Shahrizai don't run away from home in the middle of the night, either," Anastasie pointed out.

"But proper Shahrizai do visit the Night Court," Mavros countered.

"Yes, when they are of age to do so," Anastasie replied.

Mavros sniffed, feeling fed up of hearing that again. "Can I go to bed now?"

“You will go to bed now," Anastasie said, straightening Mavros' nightclothes and tucking him in firmly. "And no more nighttime wanderings, impertinent bratling, or next time I shall whip you."

Sighing quietly, Mavros wrapped his arm around his Shahrizai soldier. "Goodnight, Anastasie."

"Goodnight, little boy." Anastasie settled on a pallet near Mavros' bed. She wasn't expected to watch him through the night, normally, but tonight she wasn't taking any chances.

She needn't have worried. Although Mavros' sore bottom kept him awake for a little while, he was exhausted, and before too long he was fast asleep.

The next morning, Anastasie woke and got ready for the day, then, receiving a message from Lord Sacriphant by way of a servant, woke her small charge. "Up, little boy. You will be having breakfast with your father today and I want you to be presentable."

"My bottom is still sore," Mavros informed his nurse, suppressing a yawn as he watched her picking out clothes for him.

"I expect so," Anastasie agreed, dressing Mavros and picking up his hairbrush, beginning to brush his hair briskly. "It shall likely be sore for a while, considering you have yet to discuss your naughtiness with your father properly."

"What will he do, Stasie?" Mavros asked. He only used his baby name for Anastasie when he was worried about something. "Do you know?"

"Well, he shan't kill you," Anastasie said drily. "No fear of that. But you may be getting another whipping, and rightly so."

Mavros sighed. "Oh."

"Yes, oh," Anastasie agreed. "But you will take it bravely, like a Shahrizai ought, and then you will be tucked up in bed again unless your father intends something else for you."

"All right," Mavros replied softly.

"Good boy," Anastasie said. She wasn't one to cuddle her charge, but she did give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she led him away to join his father for the morning meal. Breakfast was not a sumptuous affair in Lord Sacriphant's household for naughty children. Mavros' meal was simply a bowl of oat porridge mixed with bits of dried fruit and a good amount of milk. Sacriphant would normally permit a drizzle of honey or some other sweetener, but in this case he seemed intent on keeping his disgraced child's breakfast as bland as possible. The enticing scents of his brothers' and father's plates, laden with eggs, cheese and meats, would make Mavros' mouth water, Sacriphant knew.

Although for the most part he managed to ignore the scents drifting from around the table as breakfast progressed, Mavros poked unhappily at his plain porridge. He didn't much like porridge anyway, which he knew his father knew, and without honey it was almost unbearable. He sighed to himself, listening idly as his twin brothers chattered excitedly about their time at the Night Court whilst Casimar and Ramiel exchanged grins.

"I cannot wait to go again," Lucian said excitedly. "Do you remember that beautiful blonde adept, Leandre?" "Which one? There were dozens," Leandre said with a grin. "That one at Valerian, the one that Casimar..." Lucian paused, as if only just realising that his baby brother was at the table, and glanced uncertainly at their father. "Oh, do not worry," Sacriphant said. "Your little brother knows all about the languisement."

Casimar regarded his baby brother for a moment before looking at his father and raising an eyebrow. "How can Mavros know about that, Father?"

"Let us say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, purely by accident." Sacriphant glanced at his youngest heir. "He happened to...ah, notice yourself, Ramiel and his nurse engaged in...activities."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed the show, little boy," Casimar said coldly, his eyes narrowing. Mavros just squirmed unhappily.

"He followed you to the Night Court last night," Sacriphant added.

"Excuse me?" Casimar demanded, shocked.

"That was my reaction," Sacriphant said drily. "Especially when the news was delivered to me by an adept of House Mandrake. He did not find any of you, no - he found himself in House Mandrake."

"How is that even possible?" Ramiel asked.

"Well, little boy?" Sacriphant asked, raising an eyebrow at his youngest. "Tell your brothers what happened." The twins looked on in interest, Ramiel having voiced their thoughts for them.

Pushing his bowl of porridge away, Mavros sighed unhappily. He didn't want to tell his brothers, especially not about the whipping from Jacinthe and the slippering from his nurse. They'd only laugh and want to see. "I sneaked out of the house and I climbed over the gate," he began reluctantly. "I found my way to Mont Nuit, and when I stopped at one of the Houses, a lady came and took me in. It was Mandrake House. Then Father came and got me, and that was it."

"That was it?" Leandre looked disbelieving. "Mavros," Sacriphant said sternly. "The whole story."

"The lady was the Dowayne, and she put me in the corner until Father arrived," Mavros added.

"The Dowayne of Mandrake House found him, and she put him in the corner?" Lucian looked at his elder brothers, sure something else was still being avoided, especially as Sacriphant did not look satisfied.

When his father glared at him, Mavros said, "And she whipped me."

"That makes more sense," Lucian snickered.

Casimar eyed his baby brother. "And what have Father and Anastasie said about it, Mavros?" Everyone at the table knew thatwhat have they said meant exactly how have they punished you. Folding his arms over his chest, because it wasn't fair, Mavros scowled slightly. "Anastasie slippered my bottom."

"And Father, Mavros?" Leandre asked. "I have not seen to your brother yet, Leandre," Sacriphant interjected smoothly. "After breakfast, I shall."

Casimar suppressed a smirk. "And rightly so, Father."

"Indeed, Casimar. Eat, Mavros," Sacriphant commanded his youngest. "No dawdling."

Not wanting to give Sacriphant a reason to start smacking him there at the table, Mavros ate. He finished his breakfast before everyone else, and as he sat there quietly, waiting for his father to be ready, he felt his eldest brother's eyes on him. "Come on then, little boy," Casimar said. "Show us. Show us that Anastasie did a good job." Mavros narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

"Do as you are bid, Mavros," Sacriphant commanded.

Huffing silently, Mavros slipped down from his chair and turned away from the table. He slid his leggings and underclothing down to just below his rosy bottom, and briefly lifted the back of his shirt before fixing his clothing and resuming his seat again.

"I didn't see that, Lucian. Did you?" Leandre asked. His twin shook his head in disappointment.

"Father," Mavros protested. "I showed them."

"Barely," Sacriphant said disapprovingly. "Disrobe and go to the corner."

Mavros stayed where he was for a moment, weighing his options. If he wasn't already in big trouble, he might have resisted. As it was, he didn't dare risk it. Exhaling quietly, he got up and undressed, leaving his clothes on his chair, before going to stand in the corner.

Leandre and Lucian exchanged grins and looked at their older brothers. Clearly, Mavros had got it good, and just as clearly, he was going to get more.

Ramiel smiled faintly, whilst Casimar nodded in approval and said, "Ah yes, Anastasie did very well indeed."

"Indeed," Sacriphant said calmly. When the meal was over, Sacriphant let his older sons go about their business before summoning his youngest to follow him. He swept to his study, carrying the pile of Mavros' clothes in his arms.

Mavros hastened after his father, chewing his lower lip anxiously as he followed Sacriphant into the study.                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Setting the clothes aside, Sacriphant fetched the small flogger from his desk. "Tell me, Mavros. What rules did you break yesterday?"

"I sneaked out of the house by myself," Mavros said, his eyes on the flogger. "And I went walking in the City alone, at night. And I went to the Night Court."

"That is correct," Sacriphant said. "You know better than to do any of those things, Mavros Shahrizai. For any of those things alone, I would spank you soundly."

"I know," Mavros said unhappily.

"For any two of those things, I would paddle you," Sacriphant continued, eyes narrowed. "And for this level of disgraceful behaviour, I shall whip you. You are not yet old enough to bear the bite of Kushiel's scourge, but one cannot begin learning too early, I think."

A flicker of fear passed over the little boy's face, though he tried to conceal it.

"So." Sacriphant had placed a short post on a stand near his desk, facing the effigy of Kushiel on the wall. "You will kneel there."

Swallowing hard, Mavros stared at the post for a long moment before approaching it slowly and dropping to his knees.

Behind Mavros, Sacriphant donned the black robe and bronze mask he had been accustomed to wearing as a priest of Kushiel. He knelt and poured incense on the altar, lighting it, before turning to his son. "Is it your will to offer penance?" he asked sternly.

“F-Father?" Mavros breathed, his eyes widening in fear at the sight of the stern bronze mask.

" 'My lord priest' will do for now," Sacriphant corrected.

"Y-yes, my...my lord priest," the boy whispered.

Sacriphant gave a nod of approval. "So." He lifted Mavros' hands, binding them to the whipping post with a thong of rawhide through the ring at the top. Stepping forward, he held up the knotted flogger before Kushiel's image, then looked down at Mavros.

Though Mavros closed his eyes and trembled, he didn't cry as he felt his father staring down at him.

Giving another nod, Sacriphant stepped behind his son and began the whipping without another word. He knew well the white-hot pain which would sear the small penitent's back, and he knew it was needful to cleanse the boy of his wrongdoing.

Mavros cried out, tears spilling from his eyes as his flesh felt like it was set alight. He jerked in his bonds, shocked by the pain. Though he was not yet seven, he was no stranger to pain. How not, when he was a Shahrizai, amongst the purest of Kushiel's scions. But this...he had never known pain like this before.

Sacriphant continued the whipping, paying no heed to his young penitent's tears. They were expected. He continued flogging Mavros until the boy's back was covered with welts, some of them bleeding forth.

Sobbing incoherently, Mavros collapsed against the post, unable to keep himself upright. He screamed for Sacriphant...not Sacriphant the lord priest, Sacriphant his father...and Anastasie, and he cried for his mama even though she was three years gone and he barely remembered her face or her voice. He could feel blood dripping down his back, and he trembled in terror, nausea rising.

Sacriphant rested a hand on Mavros' head, an uncharacteristically gentle touch for Kushiel's priest. "Breathe, little boy," he instructed. "In and out. Slowly." It was not part of the ritual, but he could not have Mavros becoming hysterical.

"Please," Mavros whispered faintly, resting his brow against the post. "Papa...please."

Sacriphant drew back. "Enough, then," he said quietly. "Make now your confession."                                          

Mavros shook his head weakly, not understanding what Sacriphant wanted from him.

"What do we say when we have been naughty?" It was Leandre, who bowed to his father when he saw what he had interrupted. "Forgive my intrusion, lord priest." He stepped back, no levity in his tone.

"Sorry," Mavros wept. "Sorry I was n-naughty. Sorry..."

At Sacriphant's gesture, Leandre swept forward and bowed, first to Kushiel's image, then to his father. Sacriphant unbound Mavros' hands, and Leandre knelt before Mavros, taking his little brother's hands in his own. "Be free of it, young Shahrizai," Sacriphant intoned. He poured the bowl of warm salt water over Mavros' back, washing the blood away, as Leandre kept Mavros' hands in his.

His back awash in flames, Mavros went limp, his eyes fluttering closed as he lost consciousness. He regained it a moment later, shuddering and weeping in agony.

Sacriphant wrapped Mavros in a bathing sheet. He looked down at Mavros, still robed and masked. "Is it well done, Kushiel's Scion?" he asked. "Do you feel better inside, Mavros?" Leandre translated softly for his weeping brother as he dried him gently. "Outside, I know all bets are off."

Mavros was scared...terrified...inside, but he had felt the beating of bronze wings, he had seen Kushiel's stern visage swimming in his blurred vision and he had sensed peace descending upon him. "Yes," he whispered weakly.

"Good," Sacriphant said. He turned from Mavros, removing his priestly garments before turning back to his sons, Lord Sacriphant once more. Resting a hand on his youngest's head, Sacriphant said, "You acquitted yourself well, my little boy. Kushiel has forgiven you, and so do I."

Struggling to hold himself upright, Mavros started to lift his arms as though to reach out to Sacriphant. His back protested at the movement, and he suppressed a sob.

Sacriphant knelt and drew Mavros close to him, patting the back of his head gently. "Good boy. You behaved well for me."

"Will it hurt forever, Papa?" Mavros whispered, wrapping his fingers around a handful of Sacriphant's braids.

"No," Sacriphant said. "Not forever, Mavros."

The little boy nodded tearfully, though he didn't entirely believe his father. "I'm feeling tired," he said softly.

"I am sure you are, my little boy. Come, I will take you to bed." Sacriphant rose, carefully lifting Mavros in his arms. "I'll clean up, Father," Leandre said, and Sacriphant gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, carrying Mavros from the study and to his chamber.

With his head resting on Sacriphant's shoulder, Mavros blinked wearily as he realised he wasn't in his own room. He wasn't about to question his father, though; he was permitted to sleep in Sacriphant's bed so rarely that he didn't want the lord to suddenly change his mind.

Sacriphant settled Mavros on Adeline's side of the large bed - even with Adeline gone these past few years, it was still Adeline's side. It was still scented with her perfume, not overbearingly so, but just enough - a balm to him in his private grief, a remembrance of her. The subtle touch of lilies and roses rested on her pillow, settled on her part of the covers. Sacriphant had heard Mavros cry for his mother earlier, and it was the moment he had almost lost his resolve. But there, settled against pillows soft as Adeline's breast and touched with her scent, he hoped Mavros would find comfort.

"It smells of flowers," Mavros whispered sleepily.

"It is your mother's perfume," Sacriphant said. "She smelled of flowers. Lilies and roses." He ran a hand lightly over his son's hair. "Do you remember?"

"Sometimes I don't," Mavros admitted softly.

"I am not surprised. You were very young. You still are very young." Sacriphant continued stroking Mavros' hair lightly. "Your mother, Adeline Shahrizai, was the only woman I ever met who outshone Melisande in beauty."

"Mama was the prettiest," Mavros whispered. Her face had faded from his memory, but there were paintings of Adeline to remind him.

Sacriphant nodded. "That she was," he agreed. "I imagine she would have been proud to call you our son. I am."

Mavros looked up, surprise flickering through his eyes. "You are?"

"Yes," Sacriphant replied, a slight smile flickering over his lips at Mavros' obvious surprise. "You endured your first whipping with more fortitude than any of your brothers did, and they were older than you. While I was not pleased by your behaviour last night, I was pleased by how well you obeyed in the study, even though you were frightened."

"I told Anastasie that Shahrizai don't get frightened," Mavros whispered. "But I was."

"Of course you were," Sacriphant agreed. He rested a hand on Mavros' head. "You are yet a little boy, Mavros. Being brave does not mean not being frightened, my son. It means doing what you must even when you are afraid, and that is what you did this morning. You were brave, as a true Shahrizai ought to be," he concluded.

Mavros smiled weakly through the pain. "Am I a proper Shahrizai then, Father?"

"You are," Sacriphant assured his son. "Hush now, Mavros. It is time for you to rest. I shall not leave you."

Though he didn't completely move from Adeline's side of the bed, Mavros carefully shifted a little closer to Sacriphant so he could rest his head on his father's chest. "I love you," he whispered, under his breath. He didn't often feel brave enough to say that to Sacriphant, but now was the best opportunity he had had in quite some time, and he wasn't about to let it go.

"I love you, little boy," Sacriphant said softly. He said it even more rarely to his sons, but he felt it was right, this time.

Mavros sighed softly in contentment and closed his eyes, his small body curled carefully against his father's side. Minutes passed, and his breathing became deep and even as he fell asleep, the pain fading to be replaced by blissful darkness.


End file.
